


Cold Enough To Freeze A Heart, Love Enough To Thaw It

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: “I thought I had lost you. I thought I had lost you before we had the chance to try and make things right between us. I thought—“ Zolf’s voice breaks and he bows his head, but not before Hamid sees the threatened tears fall.----After a close call in Svalbard, cuddling ensues, words are exchanged, bridges are crossed.
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Zolf Smith
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65





	Cold Enough To Freeze A Heart, Love Enough To Thaw It

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place at a nebulous point in the possibly not-too-distant (as of episode 158 anyway) future, in Svalbard.

Hamid is cold.

That’s wrong. Hamid _shouldn’t_ be cold. He shouldn’t be cold because… because of something. He wonders if his friends are cold too. They shouldn’t be cold either. He had done something so they wouldn’t be cold. Magic? Yes, it must have been magic, but there had been something else too, hadn’t there?

_“It really is a lovely coat,” Azu says with a smile. Hamid flies next to her, magic carrying him over the snow drifts that are almost half as tall as he is. The kobolds are scattered around them, each of them wearing the sweaters Hamid had knit for them, even Skraak._

_Hamid feels himself blushing, the dragon scales dusting his cheeks and trailing down his neck growing hotter than the rest of him. “Thank you.”_

_“Kinda makes you look like a bear,” says Carter from behind them._

_There’s a sound like someone being hit with a snowball, and Hamid grins as Carter splutters._

_“Thank you, Barnes,” Azu says._

_“Nothing wrong with looking like a bear!” Cel pipes up. They’re wearing a woolen hat that is a startling array of colors. Hamid had knit it for them, but Cel had dyed the yarn while also learning that an airship maybe wasn’t the best place to conduct potentially explosive dye experiments. “Wait… I could_ **_be_ ** _a bear! Where did I put that potion?”_

_Zolf walks ahead of them all, not saying anything. The scarf Hamid had made for him is as gray as storm clouds, as gray as his mood has been. Hamid wishes he had picked a brighter color for him. Something to cheer him up, to bring out his eyes…_

Hamid can’t remember ever being this cold before. He can’t even feel his body at all, can’t feel himself breathing, can’t feel his heart beating. All he can feel is the cold, all he can see is the dark. Are his eyes closed? Hamid tries to open his eyes, but nothing changes. Maybe they were already open, and it’s just dark where he is. It hadn’t been dark before though, had it? He doesn’t remember it being dark.

_“Hamid!” Cel’s voice is a quiet, excited squeak as they touch his arm. “Hamid, look over there!”_

_“What is it?” Hamid has to hold up a hand to shade his eyes from the glare of sunlight on snow as he looks in the direction Cel’s pointing in. It takes a moment for him to pick out the shapes from the rest of the snow, the animal’s short, shaggy bodies and their small antlers. “Are those… reindeer? I’ve only seen them in books.”_

_“The tiniest reindeer!” Cel says in awe. They get a gleam in their eyes, a grin slowly spreading across their face. “I bet… I bet they’re small enough for you to ride…”_

_Hamid is about to laugh at the thought when the reindeer suddenly bolt, racing across the snow. Hamid looks around to see what scared them…_

There are voices in the dark. Hamid can’t make out the words, can barely make out the tone. They sound so far away, so distant and faint. He thinks they sound scared. Why are they scared? Are they scared of the dark? The dark isn’t that bad really. It’s rather peaceful. Is it the cold? The cold doesn’t feel as cold anymore. Before it had hurt, he remembers that it had hurt, but now it’s fading. Everything’s fading, his thoughts going far away, harder to hold on to. Is he falling asleep? He _does_ feel very tired.

There’s pressure on his chest, like someone is pushing on it, over and over, hard enough that it’s painful. It’s interrupting the quiet, the peace. He has a body. A body that is cold. A body that _hurts._

“Hamid!” A voice. A voice that sounds stern, but the sternness is ice that is breaking. Underneath that ice is an ocean of fear. Hamid knows that voice.

_Dark robed figures appear out of nowhere, their shadows staining the snow, turning it black as chaos erupts, as people shout, as weapons are drawn and magic fills the air. Hamid has to be careful with what spells he uses so as not to catch any of his friends in the crossfire, paying for their safety with his divided attention. He’s not as quick with his spells as usual but that’s okay, that’s all right. The fight is going well regardless, the blood on the snow belongs more to his enemies than his friends, and that’s what’s important, that’ s what matters._

_He doesn’t see the bolt of blue and white energy until it’s too late to dodge or deflect. The last thing he feels before he falls into the snow is cold like a fist hitting him in the chest as Zolf runs towards him, as Zolf calls his name._

“Hamid, don’t you dare— don’t you go—“

Zolf’s voice is growing faint again, the cold and pain fading, and now Hamid knows why, knows what’s happening to him. Dying. He’s dying.

_No._ Hamid thinks. He tries to breathe, tries to say the word, but nothing happens. He gathers what little, small strength he has and tries again. _No!_

Hamid’s heart gives a painful, shuddering beat at the same instant that Zolf’s lips meet his, forcing air into his lungs. It hurts, oh gods it _hurts_ and it’s the best thing Hamid has ever felt in his life as his heart beats again, and then again, as his lungs spasm, as he coughs.

“Oh thank— thank whoever,” Zolf says, and there are hands on Hamid’s chest once more, this time full of magic so warm that it burns against his cold skin. Hamid gasps from the shock of it, his eyes flying open.

“Zolf,” Hamid manages to gasp out before the world fades, going from white to gray as his eyes slip closed again. He’s still cold. So cold.

Hamid doesn’t lose consciousness completely, not right away. He hears the sounds of battle, hears his friends shouting to Zolf as they fight, asking if he’s okay. He hears the _growlslitherhiss_ of Draconic as the kobolds berate themselves for not protecting him better. He hears the sound of his breathing, his chattering teeth, his heartbeat, focuses on them as the sounds of fighting grow quieter. He counts the voices he hears, and the only one absent is his own, too weak and exhausted to speak so that’s all right, that’s fine. He feels himself being lifted and clings tightly to the warm body that holds him close, snuggling under a warm coat lined with fur.

“Do you want me to carry him?” Azu asks.

Hamid feels Zolf’s arms tighten around him. “No.”

The word is too loud, too harsh. Hamid tries to say Zolf’s name again, but only a chattering whimper emerges.

“Azu, I—“ Zolf’s voice is softer now. “I’m sorry, I just…. just let me. Please.”

“All right.” Azu’s voice is all compassion and forgiveness, worry threaded underneath. Hamid feels her hand rest against his back briefly, the warmth of her magic chasing the cold away for a moment. “I understand.”

“I’ve got you,” Hamid hears Zolf whisper, or thinks he hears as he drifts towards unconsciousness. “I’ve got you.”

———

Hamid wakes slowly, thoughts lazy and confused. He doesn’t remember the party getting rooms at an inn, but they must have. It’s the only way to explain the bed he’s sleeping on, the weight of several sleeping furs a comfortable, warm pressure against his skin. Someone is holding him very closely, and for a moment that doesn’t strike him as odd at all. He’s been cuddling up with Azu most nights since Rome, each of them taking comfort from each others presence. But this… this isn’t Azu’s chest his head is resting against, that’s very easy to tell for several reasons. But who else would be holding him closely and with such care? And why does his chest ache like something had hit him there?

Hamid opens his eyes and sees a thick curl of white chest hair. Beyond that there’s a tattoo, but what of, Hamid can’t tell at this angle. Zolf. Zolf is holding him and this is a dream, surely, like the ones he used to have when they were traveling together before. This is a dream, except why does his chest ache and throb with every heartbeat? Why—?

The memories come back in a rush. His friends. The snow. The Cult of Hades. Magic. Zolf holding him, healing him, begging him not to go, not to _die._ He gasps and immediately begins coughing, the action painful. The heartbeat under his ear speeds up as Zolf’s hands rub his back, gentle, soothing circles.

“You’re all right,” Zolf tells him, and it sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself as much as him. “You’re all right. Shhhh.”

“Is everyone else all right?” Hamid manages to ask once he’s gotten his breath back. “Are _you_ all right?” He lifts his head, looking up into Zolf’s storm gray eyes. Zolf looks _exhausted,_ looks like he’s been crying, his eyes rimmed with red.

“Everyone’s fine,” Zolf says. “Just minor injuries, nothing Azu couldn’t take care of. Nothing—“ Zolf swallows. “Nothing as bad as you.”

Hamid pulls back from Zolf a bit so that he can look down at himself, noting that while Zolf lets him go, his hands still remain on Hamid’s shoulders, as if he thinks that if he stops touching Hamid he’ll disappear. There’s a mark over Hamid’s heart, a shape that could almost be a flower or a snowflake, so much paler than the surrounding skin. It’s cold when Hamid touches it, like ice, like snow.

“I’m sorry,” Hamid says quietly, and he doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for.

“You didn’t stop shivering for over an hour,” Zolf says softly. “Everyone would be here trying to keep you warm if the bed was big enough.”

Hamid doesn’t say anything, just lets his hand drift a little bit lower. There’s a bruise there, a deep purple bruise roughly in the shape of a hand. Hamid places his own hand over it, so much smaller, and winces.

“Your heart stopped,” Zolf tells him. “I put my hands on you and the magic just…” Zolf’s takes a ragged breath, and when Hamid looks up he sees that Zolf’s eyes are shining with the threat of tears. “It didn’t go anywhere.” Zolf places a hand over Hamid’s own. “I thought I had lost you. I thought I had lost you before we had the chance to try and make things right between us. I thought—“ Zolf’s voice breaks and he bows his head, but not before Hamid sees the threatened tears fall.

It takes work to mend bridges between people, takes many conversations, takes time before one person can cross back over to the other, before two people can meet in the middle. Hamid knows Zolf wants to take that time. Hamid himself _wants_ to take that time, put in that effort, and he _will._ But now is not the time to stand longingly on one side of a bridge, or to carefully try to walk over the broken boards. After all, Hamid can fly.

Hamid rests his forehead against Zolf’s at the same time he reaches up to cup the back of Zolf’s head with the hand that’s not being held against his chest. Zolf’s hair is as white as snow and soft as sea foam. “I’m here.” It’s a whisper so much quieter than the beating of his heart. “I’m here, Zolf. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here.”

The words don’t feel like enough. They never do with Zolf, as hard as Hamid always tries. His words are a river and Zolf is the rock that they flow around. Grand gestures won’t do either. Anything too big will break this moment.

The kiss then, when it happens, when Hamid leans closer, is a small thing. Just his lips brushing Zolf’s for the space of two thudding heartbeats before he draws away, the taste of salt on his lips and his own tears warm against his cheeks. He looks at Zolf, at his eyes wide in shock, at his slightly parted lips, and has just enough time to think that he’s ruined what little they had between them, that he’s gone and burned that bridge with a flame more hot and bright than his dragon fire could ever be before Zolf kisses him back. It’s a kinder echo of Zolf’s frantic attempt to save him, their mouths open against each other, each breathing each other’s breath.

Both of them are trembling, but it has nothing to do with being cold. Hamid doesn’t think either of them will ever be cold again.

**Author's Note:**

> Look up Svalbard reindeer, you will not be disappointed. 
> 
> I know Hamid has tailoring as a profession and *probably* knitting isn't included in that but it is now. Also Cel would dye the greatest yarn, you know they would.
> 
> I've had the idea of Hamid succumbing to some sort of cold damage in Svalbard in my notes for months now, especially since brass dragons are vulnerable to cold and Hamid has brass dragon ancestry so ice spells could *totally* just floor him. I still remember the cold mold in Kew.
> 
> I’m [angel-ascending](http://angel-ascending.tumblr.com) over on Tumblr and [angel_in_ink](http://twitter.com/angel_in_ink) over on Twitter if y’all want to stop by and say hi!


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